


Will There Be A Curve?

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [314]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Poe's heat hits. It's not convenient.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: Mental Mimosa [314]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1012767
Comments: 4
Kudos: 127





	Will There Be A Curve?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: College/University and A/B/O
> 
> This is a true old school MM in which I wrote two versions of the same general idea.

**Take 1**

He’s halfway through a lecture on aerodynamics when it hits him, that first, roiling wave of seasick flame, and even though it’s been ten years and a whole new career since he’s felt it, there’s no mistaking: he’s in heat. Or he will be in a couple of hours, at the outside. Keyword: outside--outside of this room, this building, this whole damn campus; that’s where he needs to be.

“Professor Dameron?” someone up in the nosebleeds calls, their voice echoing down over the lecture hall. “You ok?”

It’s only then that he realizes he’s stopped speaking, that the lecture has ground to halt. He’s facing the board and there’s crushed chalk between his fingers and he’s also shaking uncontrollably, hey. Terrific.

“Uh,” he gets out. “Just feeling a little sick, guys.” He turns his head and says it again, aiming for a wobbly smile. “That’s what I get for treating coffee like a food group, huh? I, um--why don’t we call it quits for today? We’ll pick up again on Thursday.”

“Does that mean Thursday’s quiz is cancelled?” 

He grabs the edge of the lecture desk and leans on it, hard. “Er, does it--?”

Another voice, an anxious huff named Hux from the front row: “Will the material you were supposed to cover today be on the quiz?”

“What?”

“Will there be a curve?”

Another wave hits him, a crash of heat and sweet that almost doubles him over and oh, gods, oh, _gods_ , he’s hard. His hips are crushed against the desk and nobody can see but jesus, there are 200 undergrads in front of him and his cock is hard and getting harder and that means that soon he’ll be--

Fuck, he’ll be--

There’s a sudden blur of movement on his right. “Hey, you heard the prof!” somebody booms--ah, Finn. He feels a rush of relief. It’s Finn, his unflappable head TA. Finn who’s moving closer, his voice cutting through the din. “We’ll talk about the quiz in your sections tomorrow. We might even review for it, if you clear out now. Bring your notes and your textbooks, yeah?”

He can’t move. He isn’t going to move, thank you, until the room is empty and he can safely open his eyes and not bear witness to his own humiliation. His students are young, sure, but not that young; some of them might have already popped their first knot or gone ass up for an alpha with big hands and a soft mouth and a dick that could reach deep inside them--could push in and stay and stay until they felt like they’d never be able to breath again, move again, without craving that indescribable ache--

“Poe? Hey, it’s ok. They’re gone.”

“Are they?”

“Uh huh. Can I--we, uh.” Finn clears his throat. “We need to get you back to your office.”

His office. Down a hall filled with people. Damn it. “Yeah. Yeah, buddy. Good idea.”

He can feel Finn step closer. “I’ve got your bag. Do you want to hold it? In front of your, er--?”

 _Your cartoonishly enormous hard-on, Professor_? Jesus. How is he ever gonna look this kid in the eye again? Well, he’s not starting now; staring at the floor’s a lot safer. “Mmmhmm, yep,” he says, thrusting out a hand. “Thanks.”

But his hand does not acquire bag. Finn doesn’t move. Instead, he goes full non sequitur, says:

“You didn’t know this was coming, did you?”  
  
  
  


**Take 2**

The first time they fuck, Poe’s in heat.

He hasn’t had a heat in 10 years and they’re kind of in the middle of something of semi-vital galactic importance, but his body doesn’t care; it throws a hormonal switch at three in the morning and makes Poe wake up dripping wet. Wet and on fire and stinking of need and the worst part, the best part, is that he doesn’t have to say a word: 30 seconds after his eyes open on darkness, Finn’s there, his hand on Poe’s arm, saying:

“It’s ok. It’s ok, Poe. I’m here.”

And it’s not ok, it’s glorious, because Finn reads him like a book: puts him on his back and spreads his thighs and laps at the place where Poe needs him, where he’s silk soft and flushed and so incredibly tight and he makes Poe come like that, his tongue eager and his fingers blunt, and then and only then does he kiss Poe, bracing himself over Poe’s body so their hips and their mouths can meet and when he pushes in, one long, aching slide, it’s paralyzing, how good it feels, how wonderful it is for Poe to let himself _want_.

“Harder,” he says in Finn’s ear, over and over. “Mark me, alpha. Fuck me, alpha, harder. Please.”

When Finn pops his knot, they both whimper, soft sounds that grow louder with each swell, each pump of strong hips and when Finn comes--on and on and on, and on--Poe’s whole body clenches, deep and incredibly sweet, until the room rings with the sounds of their pleasure.

“That’s it,” Finn murmurs against the open bow of Poe’s mouth. “That’s it. Come with me.”

In the morning, the bed is a wreck and Poe’s grin is sheepish.

“Thanks, buddy. I don’t know what happened. Hasn’t hit me out of nowhere like that since I was a kid.”

Finn turns his head. He’s sitting on the edge of Poe’s bed, his feet on the floor, the lines of Poe’s nails flush on the stretch of his back, and his eyes are--huh. Hard to read. “It happens,” he says. “It’s ok.”

Poe, because he is Poe, can’t just let that go. So he sits up and tips his chin against curve of Finn's shoulder. “Shut up with that _it happens_ crap. I’m trying to say thank you, huh?”

“Thank you accepted.”

“Mmm, really? Darn. That was my opening bid. I thought you’d make me work a little harder than--”

But Finn pulls away. Stands up and zooms past his bed and towards the fresher without looking back and, well. That’s the end of that. They never talk about it, that day, or ever.

Until it happens again.

  
**

  
The second time they fuck, Finn’s angry and Poe’s willing and it’s even better and worse than before.

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to write for this ship! Obviously, I haven't figured out how to do it quite yet...


End file.
